by Tasha Fawkes
Matt
I should be feeling better. I should be finally feeling happy that this whole thing is getting resolved, and that my family will get the hell off my back about satisfying that fucking will. I should be celebrating, or something, but instead I’m sitting here, feeling empty, almost dead inside, because I just proposed to a woman that I have no interest of spending the next year with, let alone the rest of my life.
A woman that I have to make a kid with. That doesn’t make me happy. It doesn’t make me feel like celebrating. It makes me feel sick and angry that I’m being forced into a life that I never wanted.
I haven’t told my family that I’d asked Shannon to marry me yet, even though I asked her two days ago. Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I want to let them stew for as long as I can. Because knowing that they’re suffering is the only joy I have at the moment.
Maybe I should put this wedding off until the night before my thirtieth. I can drag this on and not tell them, then at the last minute, bring out Shannon. No. Knowing my luck, she’ll end up dying before she can make good on her promise.
Approaching Charlene had been a mistake that I never should’ve made. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment and that was stupid and wrong of me. This is the right thing to do. Shannon and I are on the same page. She knows what this is, and she can handle the implications it brings up. Asking Shannon to marry me was what I should’ve done in the first place. I should’ve treated this as a business opportunity.
Like everything else in my life, I got where I am today by making decisions without having emotional involvement. The moment I start thinking about things with anything other than a clear and conscious head is the moment everything will fall apart. Because when you start thinking with your heart, you’re not really thinking at all.
I can only imagine what Charlene thinks of me. If she doesn’t file a sexual harassment suit against me, I’ll be shocked. I sure as hell would if I were in her shoes. God knows I deserve it. What the fuck was I thinking, using my power and position to take advantage of her during one of the most vulnerable moments of her life? And to lie to get her to tell me her secret? That was pushing it too far, even for me. What kind of asshole would do that? Apparently, I would.
I do everything I can to avoid her at work, because it’s easier than facing her after how I behaved. Avoiding her might’ve been easy, but that doesn’t make it right. There is only one thing worse than how I’d treated her and that was not having the balls to apologize for it.
I buzz Shirley and ask her to get Charlene into my office immediately. While I wait, I pace my office. I don’t like waiting. It’s not something that comes naturally to me, because when I want something, I usually want it then. And right now, I want Charlene in front of me so I can get this goddamn apology out of the way. I look up as there’s a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I command.
The door opens, and Charlene appears. I’m confused by the feelings stirring in my stomach when I see her, but I dismiss it as embarrassment or shame or something else as equally disturbing that I’m not used to feeling.
“Thanks for coming in,” I begin. I take a deep breath and turn to face her, not sure of what to say. I need to approach this like ripping off a Band-Aid. Quick, short, and with minimal pain.
“May I say something first?” she asks.
Her voice soft, as is her expression, a far cry from the last time I spoke to her. I sit down at my desk and she sits opposite me. I nod and wave my hand, letting her speak, then I sit back and wait for her to go off at me for the third time, because I’m sure that’s where this is going.
“So,” she begins, finally meeting my eyes. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I want to know if your offer is still on the table. I’m not saying yes, but I’m willing to consider it.”
I stare at her, stunned, because this is the last thing I expected her to say to me. I open my mouth and then close it again, because I’m not sure of what to say.
You can start by apologizing for how you acted.
“What is it that you want to know?” I ask her instead.
I’m not convinced this is going to work, because even if she says yes, I still need to be sure that she’s going to go with it and not change her mind at the last minute. I can’t afford that. The only security I have is knowing that she can’t afford it either.
In the back of my mind, I remember that Shannon agreed to marry me. What am I going to say to her? It would be a dick move to shove her off in favor of someone else. I know that and the honorable thing to do would be to go ahead with my commitment to Shannon, but there is something about Charlene that I just can’t let go. Something about the way she makes me feel. God, I don’t know.
When I look at her, there is something there, and that makes passing up this opportunity impossible. I need to get to know her better. My grandfather’s will aside, I can’t let her slip through my fingers now that I have her in my grasp.
“Can I ask what changed your mind?” I ask.
She stares at me, her expression hard. “After thinking about it, I realized that you were right. I do need this. This is my only way out.” She pauses, her eyes still locked on mine. “I don’t like you, Matt. Hell, if I’m honest, right now there are thousands of emotions I feel when I look at you and not one of them is positive. But I have to think about my future and with the way I’m going, I won’t have one.”
I smile, because I like how she’s standing up for herself. She didn’t fall at my feet when I first made the offer, and she isn’t doing it now. Even though it shocked me to hear someone defy me, I like how feisty she is.
“Okay, so what do you want to know?” I ask.
“Why do you need me to marry you?” she asks. “And don’t bullshit me, because if I agree and then find out you’re lying, this whole deal is off.”
I nod. “That’s fair enough. Okay, everything out on the table? My grandfather put a stipulation in his will, saying that my entire family would not receive their inheritance until I have been married for one year. I also need to get married before I turn thirty.”
“How old were you yesterday?” she asks.
“Twenty-Nine.”
“So, that’s it?” she says. “That’s why you need to marry me?” I laugh, because only Charlene could refer to a multi-billion-dollar inheritance as ‘that’s it.’
“That’s it,” I smirk.
“What do you want from me, then? Is this marriage on paper only? Do we need to live together? Do I get my own room? Are we supposed to be convincing as a married couple, or will everybody know it’s not real?”
“You need to live with me,” I say, answering her first question. “Whether or not you have your own room is up to you.” I raise my eyebrows and smile at her. “Do you want your own room, Charlene?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I can assure you that this won’t be happening without my own room. Which brings me to my first condition. There will be no sex.”
I swallow a laugh. That’s going to make my grandfather’s second stipulation are little harder.
“Okay,” I say, going with it. All I need to do right now is convince her to marry me. I can figure the rest out later.
She nods slowly. “And I want more than forty grand.”
I smirk and nod. “Fine. What do you want?” I don’t feel like she’s trying to take advantage of me, I just think she wants me to understand that what I’m asking her to do is worth more than what I’m offering her.
“Five hundred thousand?” she says in a small voice. I shrug. That is pennies compared to what my family is getting from this.
“Fine.”
Her eyes widen, like she can’t believe I just agreed to that.
“How soon do we need to do this?” she asks. “Will it be made known to the people here at work? I mean, will they know that we’re married?” she asks. I frown, because these are questions I haven’t considered myself.
“I’ll need to talk to m
y lawyer,” I say finally. She nods.
“Maybe we can both sit down with your lawyer and discuss exactly what needs to be done?”
I nod again. “Okay. I’ll arrange for him to come in later today so we can get this sorted. I will let you know when he’s here.”
She nods and stands up, giving me half a smile before making a beeline for the door.
“Oh, and Charlene?” I call out to her. She stops and looks back at me. “I know this is helping you out a lot, but this is helping me out more. So thank you for that.”
“You’re thanking me with five hundred grand, Mr. Harris.” I swear I see a smile on those full, red lips before she turns around and walks out of my office.
Peter walks into my office, his expression disapproving as usual. I motion for him to sit down, and he does. I pour him a drink, and one for myself, then join him at my desk. He nods as I hand him his glass. I smirk, knowing that is as close as I’m getting to a thank you from him. I call Shirley and ask her to get Charlene for me. Hanging up the phone, I turn back to Peter.
“I've only mentioned the marriage to her. I haven't said anything about having my child, so please don't mention anything about that. Okay?”
Peter frowns at me, but nods his head stiffly. I can tell he doesn’t approve of my approach. But it’s a good thing that I’m the one paying him and not the other way around.
“I won’t say a word,” he mutters. “But you do realize that you're going to have to let her know of that condition eventually?”
I chuckle at his ability to state the obvious. It will be a bit hard to get her to have my child without making it known to her.
“Yes, thanks, Peter. I'm well aware of that.”
Charlene walks back into my office and takes a seat at my desk next to Peter, who she eyes nervously.
“You must be Charlene?” he says, extending his hand. She shakes it and smiles at him, looking a tiny bit more at ease. “So, Matthew tells me that you’ve agreed to discuss the conditions of marrying him.”
She nods and glances at Peter, then me. “I want to know exactly what is involved and what is expected of me before I agree to this.”
“Yes, knowing all the conditions will definitely help in making an informed decision on your part. We wouldn’t want any little, unexpected surprises popping up, would we?” Peter adds, ignoring the burning glare I’m giving him.
“Thank you.” Charlene nods. “So we need to be married for one year?”
“Correct.”
“And we need to live together?” she presses.
Peter nods. “During the time of your marriage, you must live together under the same roof and appear to the world as a couple. So in the company of friends and family, everyone must greet you and treat you as a couple.”
“Do I have to sleep with him?” she asks, frowning.
Peter glances at me. “There is no stipulation that you must sleep with him,” he finally answers. I release the breath I was holding, impressed with his ability to suggest she doesn’t have to sleep with me without purgering himself. This guy is definitely a lawyer, though I guess there are other ways to make a baby.
Charlene nods. “Okay, and in return, I get…”
“You get what you agreed upon and the marriage is terminated.”
“And then I'm free to go, without ever having to be in contact with him again?”
Peter nods again. “Any future contact with Mr. Harris is up to you.”
Charlene thinks for a moment, pressing her lips together nervously, looking like she's crunching numbers in her head. Finally, she nods.
“Okay. I've agreed to do this for five hundred thousand,” she mumbles. She glances at Peter. “How soon do I, uh, receive the money?” she asks. I stare at her clenched fists and know she's not trying to swindle. She just wants to get these guys off her back.
“I will write you a check right now forty thousand,” I say softly. “You’ll get ample money while living with me, so the balance shall be paid following our divorce.”
“And that will be written in our pre-nup, or whatever it is I sign?” she asks, uncertainly.
I nod. “Everything will be written in clear detail. There will be nothing left for interpretation. You’re also welcome to have your own lawyer look over the contract.” I pull out my checkbook and scrawl out a check for forty thousand, like I do it every day. I tear it off and hand it to her. “This should get those men off your back, at the very least.”
She nods, not meeting my eyes as she takes the check from my hand. “Okay, so when do we do this?” she asks. “When do we get married?”
I glance at Peter, who nods. I turn back to her and smile. “How is your tomorrow looking?”
Her eyes widen. “Tomorrow?” she squeaks. “But there is so much to do. I don't even have a dress.”
I chuckle and raise my eyebrows. “Charlene. This is a business arrangement. We don't need time to prepare our cake or perfect our vowels. We simply go down to the courthouse and we get married.”
She frowns. “Okay,” she mumbles, her cheeks going red.
I nod and stand up, adjusting my jacket. She stands up too, still looking bothered about something. I raise my eyebrows at her and she flushes.
“One more thing. What do I do about working here?” she finally asks.
I shrug. “Do you want to keep working here?” I ask. She thinks for a moment and then nods. “Then you keep working here,” I say simply. “I'm not going to chain you to the kitchen sink, Charlene.” I smirk as she flushes. She takes a deep breath and nods.
“Okay, so if the wedding is tomorrow, when do I move into your house?” Her voice gets higher with each question. If she asks any more she’s going to sound like she’s been sucking on helium.
“Tomorrow, after our wedding? I wouldn’t want my wife living in that dump for a second longer than she has to,” I reply.
She flushes again, and then excuses herself back to work. She stumbles out the door, shutting it behind her. I give it a few more minutes before I turn back to Peter and raise my eyebrows.
“Well? What do you think?”
He shrugs. “I hope you know what you're doing,” he says. “Not telling her about the child is a big risk. This could backfire, not just on you, but on everyone.”
I nod, feeling confident that this is going to all work out.
“Trust me, this is all going to work fine.”
“I hope so,” Peter mutters as he walks toward the door. “Oh, Peter?” He turns around and frowns at me. “Please don't mention to my family that she doesn't know about the child.”
He nods stiffly. “I'm employed by you, Mr. Harris. Not your family.”
Nine
Charlene
This isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day to be.
I’m standing in a courtroom, about to marry a virtual stranger, for a shit ton of money, while a drunk guy who is waiting on his case to be heard for public indecency, hurls abuse at the judge from behind me. I’d laugh if the situation wasn't so dire.
I keep telling myself that this is about me taking control of my life, but in reality, I can't help but think I'm giving away what little control I still have. This is such a bad idea. How can I let myself do this? I glance at Margie and frown. This is all her fault. If she hadn’t gotten in my head about Matt’s offer, I wouldn’t have gone back in there to bargain with him.
Stop it. This is the only way out and you know it. I’m doing the only thing I can do. I’m getting these guys off my back so I can get on with my life. I'm done feeling helpless and powerless. I can't live like that anymore, looking over my shoulder, waiting for them to do whatever it is they had planned next. This way, at least I can relax.
So what if I lose a year of my life? It hasn’t exactly been a bunch of roses being me anyway. And there are worse guys I could be marrying. I have to make this into a positive instead of a negative. I have to own this marriage and not shy away from it, because this will be the turning point in
my life. Whether that’s good or bad is up to me.
I glance at Margie, who stands beside me. She holds a bouquet of flowers that she bought from the grocers on the way. I smile, because the bright yellow and purple arrangement matches the silly expression on her face perfectly.
She was so happy when I asked her to come down here with me. I didn't have the heart to tell her that was only because I needed a witness and didn't have anyone else to ask. It’s not that I didn't want her there. I didn't want anyone here. This isn’t a proud moment for me, it’s one of the many times in my life that I want to forget. I’m not proud of what I’m doing. No matter how many times I tell myself that this is all about me starting a new chapter in my life, I still feel like I’m repeating every other chapter where things have gone wrong.
I stand near the back of the courtroom, waiting for Matt to get here. I keep glancing at my watch to check the time. Fake wedding or not, he’s five minutes late. That's not a good sign.
The drunk guy up for indecent exposure slurs at me. I frown, trying to ignore him as the judge tells him to be quiet, while I focus on worrying about Matt. What if he’s changed his mind? Will he want his money back? Anxiety eats away at me. God, I hope not. It isn’t like I can go and get it back now that the debt is paid. I laugh and shake my head. This is a nightmare. Or maybe it's a blessing if he doesn't turn up. I mean, what is the worst he can do? I’d rather owe him money than the other guys.
God, I’m going from hoping he turns up to hoping he doesn’t, and back to hoping he does. My head is doing such large backflips that I’m starting to feel sick.
“Are you nervous?” Margie asks me.
“Yes. No.” I glance around, trying to work out what I’m feeling. “I don't know. I don't know what to think. Where is he? Why would he be late? He's the one who pushed for this,” I growl.
“He'll be here, just calm down,” Margie assures me. “He probably got caught up at work or something. I can't wait to meet him,” she adds, her eyes sparkling.